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... e of someone who had done this a hundred times before. Every word he spoke after that felt chosen—not for meaning alone, but for rhythm. The girls didn’t even realize how he was pulling them in. His tone was soft enough to sound harmless, amused enough to sound human, yet every line drove the conversation exactly where he wanted it.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t threaten. He simply talked—and with each sentence, the temperature of the corridor dropped.

"No evidence..." he had murmur ...

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